


Fate, Fear, and Feathers

by suitesadness



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hegemon Edelgard von Hresvelg, Hegemon Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Surgery, also the Hegemon is feathery and birdlike in this cause why not, can you BELIEVE there are only 6 fics in that tag??, hegeleth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesadness/pseuds/suitesadness
Summary: The war is over, Fódlan is in peace, and Byleth can finally return to a calm, un-eventful life; that is, until she wakes up next to the Adrestian Emperor, as per normal, only to find her sprouting bloody, feathered growths.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	1. Daybreak

It was a quiet morning, the kind of quiet morning that Byleth liked above all other mornings. Sunlight filtered in through cracks in the windowpanes and cast sunbeams across the bundle of sheets she found herself entangled in; moreover, she had Edelgard’s arms wrapped around her waist, face pressed into her back as she slept ever-soundly.

Few outside the strike force were aware of their relationship, and only Hubert knew of the sleeping arrangement: the agreement that, should her nightmares interfere with her sleep, Byleth would move into the imperial palace’s master bedroom, as opposed to living in a guest room on the lower floor. And that’s exactly what she did. Because, no more than several days after Garland Moon began, Edelgard quietly admitted her own sleep deprivation after a war council; prompting Byleth to haul all forty-tons of her gear up to the imperial princesses’ bedroom and declare that she wasn’t going to move a single muscle until Edelgard felt well-rested again.

It had been a good while since then, and every evening Edelgard would mumble something about needing more time to sleep, before leading Byleth back to bed.

Both knew the true reason for this accompaniment, but neither dared to interrupt the game they played each night: with Byleth taking note of how soundly Edelgard slept the night before, and Edelgard’s insistence that one night of sleep was not enough to make up for months upon years of nightmares.

Laying there, fading in and out of sleep, Byleth recalled one night in their academy days, when she heard scattered cries ring out through the dormitory.

Edelgard had awoken drenched in sweat, crying out names that Byleth couldn’t recognize, but she froze as soon as she locked eyes with her teacher at the door. Her skin had been adorned with scratches, feathers from her pillow strewn about. Tears lined her eyes.

She had tried to play it off, originally, but eventually relented to Byleth’s concern, and explained that she occasionally has nightmares. In hindsight, she had lied about the frequency; but everything that followed was truthful. She dreamt of her siblings, and how they called out to her from their separate cages. She dreamt of people with pale faces and crooked spines, laughing down at her. And on one occasion, she dreamt that she had transformed into a large, gangly monster, one adorned with feathers and scales.

Now, feeling the woman’s breath upon her back, Byleth found it hard to believe that she once slept under such conditions; breaking out into tremors and cold sweats, crying out due to pains which she had endured years beforehand.

She laid there, completely and utterly serene. Her eyelashes fluttered with each breath, mouth slightly agape. Every so often, she would mumble some incoherency or other, and grip the mercenary’s arm tighter, fingers clinging to the woman’s battle-worn skin.

With a smile, Byleth tried to untangle herself from the sheets, intending to turn and awake Edelgard as gently and softly as possible; but, when she moved her legs, she felt something coarse and bristly brush up against her skin.

Coarse and bristly, like an animal.

She jerked away with a yelp, sitting upright in bed. “El?” she hissed, placing a hand on the sleeping emperor’s shoulder and shaking. “C’mon, El, you gotta wake up.”

“Mhm?” Edelgard replied, only stirring slightly in her sleep. “Why?”

“I think there’s something in the bed,” Byleth said, pausing before adding: “a rodent.”

Edelgard’s eyes flickered open, shoving the blankets away and rising to her feet in an instant. “A rodent?!” she yelped, words still slurred from sleep as she scanned the bed, taking nervous steps towards the corner of the room. “Y-you mean like a rat?!”

Byleth crawled out of bed and began shaking out the comforter, hoping that, should there be a rat, it would at least run in a direction other than the spot where Edelgard stood. 

“Not necessarily a rat, it may have b—“

The doors flew open, Hubert standing there, still clad in bedclothes, with a stern expression on his face. “Your majesty?” he asked. “Is something wrong? I heard you yell.”

Skirting around the bed, Edelgard inched towards the door, glancing in between the bedsheet and her retainer. “Th-there’s,” she began, pausing to suck in a breath, “there’s a rat, in the bed.”

“Your majesty, I assure you, there are no rats in the pa—“ he began, cutting off abruptly as he stared at the woman before him. “Y-your majesty! Your legs! Your wrists!” he exclaimed

Byleth looked up from the mess of sheets at her feet, looking up just in time to see Edelgard stagger back with a gasp, hands outstretched before her as she fell backwards.

“El!” Byleth gasped, rushing across the room.

Edelgard crashed against the wall, slumping to the floor and mumbling incoherently as she brought her hands to her face. “No, no, no!”

Byleth kneeled, moving to bring a hand to Edelgard’s shoulder, but she froze, hand hovering just above the other woman’s flesh.

The skin on Edelgard’s lower legs and forearms had grown coarse and dry, skin flaking away, with black, feather-like hairs having sprouted where the skin broke. Deep, dark red blood had dried around the scale-like openings, with the wounds themselves discolored and looking rotten. Most notably, however, were the longer feathers that had already come to cover most of her wrists and ankles, sticking upright in her terror, and looking fairly... coarse and bristly.

Hesitating, Byleth touched the growths, opening her mouth to soothe Edelgard, but not before she was shoved away.

“Don’t touch them,” Edelgard cried, “please!”

It was Byleth’s turn to stagger backwards as she reeled from the uncharacteristic impact. Another pair of hands met her back before Hubert set her upright, with both of the emperor’s aides now standing side-by-side, staring aghast, as Edelgard began to weep.

With only a nod between the two, Hubert rushed downstairs for a medic, while Byleth kneeled down in front of Edelgard.

“El, it’s gonna be okay,” she soothed. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it better.”

Edelgard choked out a sob, feathered hands pressed into her eyes. “You can’t, By,” she said, shoulders trembling. “I knew it was gonna happen. It happened to all of us.”

“What on earth are talking about?”

Edelgard looked up, opening her mouth for a moment as though she were going to explain, but instead she only grimaced as another wave of sobs came cascading out of her mouth; head falling against Byleth’s chest as the continued to cry. Her entire body shook, feathers pressing into Byleth’s skin and leaving trails of blood in their wake as Byleth wrapped her arms around the crying woman, brushing her fingers through her hair as she shushed.

All she could do was wait for footsteps to come echoing up the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first contribution to the archive! It’s also my first contribution to the painfully tiny hegeleth tag; hopefully it will bring more attention to this brilliant variant of edeleth.


	2. Examination

Much to Hubert’s dismay, Manuela had taken a brief leave — something she often did after particularly nasty break-ups — and was out on town; and, instead, had a semi-groggy Linhardt at his side when he emerged back into the emperor’s bedroom.

At their arrival, Edelgard did her best to stifle her crying, letting Byleth wipe away what few tears she had shed as she rose to her feet.

Hubert slammed the room’s doors shut, locking then for good measure. He spoke in rushed, quiet tone. “If people catch wind that her majesty is ill, all of Enbarr will erupt into chaos,” he hissed. “We’re in a post-war society, after all, we’re vulnera—“

“Could you not jump to the worst possible conclusion before I even perform my exam?” Linhardt placed a tattered satchel down upon the bed. “It could be something entirely benign,” he said.

In a single smooth movement, he snapped the satchel open and began taking out an array of instruments. A tongue suppressor, a small mirror; he placed them on the mattress and motioned for the woman to sit down.

Byleth took Edelgard by the hand and led her to bed, taking a seat next to her.

“Now, if I could just see a wrist—“ the green-haired medic began, prompting Edelgard to stick out an arm. “Oh, my.”

He took hold of her hand, gently prodding around the area.

“Mother of Seiros,” he muttered, lifting a feather up with his finger.

Hubert paced back forth before the door, occasionally pausing to press his ear against the wall to survey potential eavesdroppers in the hall. “Look bad? Anything you recognize?” he asked, as he double-checked the lock.

“Well, when you said that her majesty was ‘growing feathers,’ I didn’t think there’d be any... actual feathers involved,” Linhardt replied, now attempting to wipe the blood off of one of the growths. “This is an unprecedented case.”

Upon closer inspection, the skin around the feathers was more than dry and flaky; it was falling off with only the most gentle of touches, skin shaving away into the sheets like mere dust. Scar tissue had begun forming in the spots where the feathers had broken through the skin, turning almost gray and scale-like; with blood seeping out from beneath. The sight was nauseating.

“At the very least, can you tell us if it’s fatal?” Hubert asked with a hiss.

“Believe me, I would; if I even knew what ‘this’ was,” Linhardt replied, before turning towards the two women at his side. “And you only noticed it this morning, correct?”

Byleth nodded.

“Actually—“ Edelgard cut in, voice still hoarse from crying, “the skin there has been dry for several days.”

The medic released her arm, and she placed both hands in her lap; thumbs brushing over the feathers. Smears of red began to line the front of her nightgown.

He took out a notebook and began scribbling away on a chart.

“Dry as in ‘normally dry,’ or dry as in... ‘falling all over the place?’”

The emperor was quiet. “Falling off,” she finally said, letting out a breath.

“And does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Fascinating...” the healer mumbled, reaching for the bag. “Well, until I can do more reading, I’d suggest moisturizing the entire arm with this.” He paused to hand Byleth a small vial of liquid. “And I’d suppress the feathers with a thin bandage, hopefully halting their growth and promoting the skin around them to heal,” he said, also handing over a spool of medical tape. “Under normal circumstances, a full physical would be in order; but given that this is her majesty that we’re dealing with—“

Hubert shot him a glare.

“—And that I am technically not a registered medic, I’ll wait for Maneula to return,” he said, standing up and putting the satchel over his shoulder. “However, if you notice anything else awry, you can find me in the Enbarr library.”

Byleth said her thanks while Hubert mumbled something as Linhardt left, opening and closing the door as swiftly as possible, swiftly locking it yet again.

“I don’t understand how he’s not on the verge of panic himself,” he said.

Byleth shrugged. “He’s used to studying weird things, it’s what he does.”

“You consider her majesty growing feathers to be only a ‘weird thing?!’” he replied. “Byleth, he said it was unprecedented, meaning th—“

“It‘s not unprecedented.”

Both heads jerked towards the bed where Edelgard still sat, hands in her lap with blood up to her elbows. She spoke softly, running her hands over the feathers in a methodical motion. She no longer seemed scared of them.

Without a word, they rushed to her side.

“Remember my siblings?” she asked, voice low. As the last word left her lips, she dug a nail into the dry, flaking skin.

Byleth winced at the motion, grabbing one of her hands (careful not to get blood on her own nightgown). “Of course I remember, El.”

“We’d never forget, your majesty.”

“Well, I lied,” Edelgard replied. 

The feathers rose to a point beneath Byleth’s fingers, blood welling up beneath them.

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked.

Edelgard’s breath hitched.

“Your majesty,” Hubert began, “you... there are no lies about your siblings.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, which was now beginning to shake as the feathers all over her body grew raised. “It’s on record. Your father had exa—“

She jerked away from his touch, pulling her hands back into her lip as she smoothed the growths downwards. “I didn’t mean like that!” she said, sucking in a gasp. “I’m talking about their deaths.”

Without thinking, Byleth wiped a bloody hand against the white sheets. “Their deaths,” she repeated, a pit growing in her stomach, “what about them?”

“They didn’t die from illness, or mental deterioration.”

Byleth and Hubert shared a worried glance.

With shaky hands, Edelgard plucked a feather from her own wrist, blood running in a single, free-flowing stream from the pin-sized hole that now sat in her arm. “This happened to them, they looked like me,” she said, voice growing more and more unsteady with each and every syllable. Her breath hitched again, this time carrying a slight, stifled sob. “Th-they, they turned grey; they grew feathers, a-and they grew scales and they slowly looked to be more beast than human, a-and—“

With that, she fully keeled over, head in her hands as she cried.

Byleth reached over to wrap an arm around her shoulders, only to find a hand already there; with Hubert holding a hand just above a feathered mass, looking unsure as he stared down at the sobbing woman.

“Th-they just bled in their cells a-and— and I couldn’t help them because I—“ she choked out in-between gasps. Her voice strained, and eventually came out as nothing but a whisper. “Th-they died, they all died.”

“We’re not gonna let that happen, El.”

She jerked her head up, tear-filled eyes staring up. “No, By, you can’t.”

Tangled, bloodied hair covered her face. Byleth swept away a single strand with her thumb. “You’re not a cell, or a dungeon,” she said. “You’re here, you’re home with people who love you; we can help you!”

“Of course, your majesty, we’re not gonna let anything happen to you,” Hubert added, his hand having since settled on the small of her back, just below a patch of scaly skin.

Edelgard sucked in another shaky breath, another set of tears falling from her eyes. 

“Is there anything you want right now, anything you need?” Byleth asked. “We could draw you a bath, or we could, ah, get you some bandages, maybe? Or, or....”

“We could get her majesty a change of clothes.”

“Right, clothes! Your nightgown is all—“

Staring, unfaltering, reddened eyes wide, Edelgard’s lips finally parted. She looked as though she were about to speak, but instead, she simply smiled, sniffling as she reached up to wipe away her own tears.

“Th... thank you, you two.”

With few words exchanged, they helped to clean and redress the exhausted woman.

They first took a series of small cloths and dabbed away at the blood that had come to surround her growths; careful not to disturb the fragile skin that also surrounded those areas. Then, they got her out of the bloodied gown and into a cleaner, looser one as soon as they possibly could. And then, as gently as they could, Byleth took to combing the knots out of Edelgard’s hair, while Hubert tied small strips of gauze to the base of the raw, profusely-bleeding growths.

Soon, before her hair had even been fully untangled, Edelgard fell into a deep slumber. And she slept for the entire remainder of the day.

Then, only in the absence of the emperor’s presence, in the absence of duty and responsibility, did Byleth truly understand the gravity of the situation; that they truly, for once in her lives, had no idea what to do.

Even amidst war, amidst the cavalcades of chaos and the countless, irreplaceable losses, they still had a goal, a means to an end. In war, it’s always about the next conflict, the next excursion. You place pins in a map and direct troops down cobblestone trails. It could be said that war wages due to the plans we craft, the decisions we make. Each conflict seamlessly leads into the next.

But this was aimless.

And, judging by the look of nausea on Hubert’s face, as he stared down at a bloodied cloth, Byleth knew that he understood too.


	3. Sprouts

A week had passed since that first chaotic day, wherein the emperor slumbered for a full period of daylight, wherein Edelgard’s two aides couldn’t even be certain if she would wake up, come dusk.

Byleth spent her time sitting on the floor next to the bed, studying a single, stray feather.

In that time, to make up for Byleth’s absence, Hubert had given a vague description the Edelgard’s “illness” and then allowed the strike team into the upper floors of the palace, helping out with various chores. Some carried baskets of laundry from the top story to the outdoor washing area. Some went into town to procure medicinal roots and 

She lived solely in the palace, only addressing the public once to dispel any rumors that she was ill; and immediately after, she stowed back away in her room and curled up in her bed, wrapping herself in sheets after delicately bandaging her growths.

“Take a look at this, Edie!” Dorothea had exclaimed one night, rushing into the master bedroom after gaining clearance from Hubert.

Shutting the door behind her, she presented a wad of yarn; red yarn, with the Adrestian crest stitched into it’s center.

Edelgard sat up in bed, a loose shirt covering most of her body. “That’s quite something.”

“Aw, don’t flatter me before you’ve even seen what it does,” Dorothea replied. In her hands, she held a knit blanket with a red amulet affixed to one of it’s corners. And, leaning down towards the emperor, she rubbed the circle of the gem with her fingertip until the orange core began to pulse and glow. “How cool is that?” she asked, holding the blanket out and foisting it into Edelgard’s arms.

She jolted as the blanket met her skin, casting it out onto the mattress before her. “W-why on earth is it hot?!”

Dorothea clapped her hands together. “It’s a heating pad!” she exclaimed. “I imbued the gem with fire magic, and the rest is history.”

For the duration of this interaction, Byleth sat on the side of the bed, going about her own nightly routine as the women conversed. She pulled a black nightshirt over her shoulders, confident that, at least, blood stains wouldn’t be quite as visible upon it’s surface. “I hope that blanket doesn’t catch on fire,” she remarked.

“It already put a flame retardant spell on the wool itself,” Dorothea grinned.

After a moment’s hesitation, Edelgard began toying with the blanket. “That’s comforting to hear,” she said. “Although, I suppose I never should have been worried in the first place.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re the most skilled reason user on the strike force.” 

As the words left Edelgard’s mouth, Dorothea’s smug grin turned into a look of genuine joy.

She swept a strand of hair behind her ear.  
“Aww, Edie...” she said. “It’s the least I could do to help with your condition, you know?”

Byleth winced at the mere mention.

“I never studied faith like Lin, so I had to think of some way to help you using my own skills.”

“And you did an excellent job, thank you.”

The women exchanged their goodnights, wishing each other well before Hubert ushered Dorothea out of the door.

And when Byleth got done preparing for bed, she turned around to find Edelgard weeping softly into the blanket.

It hadn’t been long since that event, and Byleth found herself laying awake in bed, staring at the wall; which was an activity she had become quite used to over the course of that week. Her father had always told her that mercenaries would have missions which left them ceaselessly awake, but she never expected anything like this: laying in bed with half-lidded eyes as the woman next her broke out in sweats beneath a heated shawl.

These fits had grown frequent, and Edelgard assured her that they weren’t nightmares, nor were they the result of the magic; and Byleth dared not to ask what prompted them instead.

But on this particular night, Edelgard began to writhe about, tearing away her sheets as a pained, raspy moan escaped her mouth. 

Byleth sat upright. “El? Are you okay?”

She reached out her arms in an attempt to pull the other woman into a hug, but Edelgard flinched away as a cry escaped her mouth. “My back,” she groaned.

“Shh, does it hurt?” Byleth asked, fumbling to comfort the other woman as she writhed. “Does your back hurt?”

“M-my back!” Edelgard repeated, this time doubling over in the fetal position as she let out another cry of pain, face pressed into the mattress as her entire body tensed.

In the dim, moonlit room, Byleth could just barely make out the shape of two lumps protruding from her skin, drops of blood beading at the tips of the two spikes; spikes which seemed to have branched off from her shoulder blades. And as she shook and cried, two tiny black nubs broke through the skin, with blood running down her back.

Byleth instinctively reached to cradle her (something she often did to stop Edelgard from hurting herself during her nightmares), but she stopped just short of doing so; wary of causing her anymore pain.

“El,” she spoke, trying carefully to steady her voice, and now finding that she herself was in the throes of panic. “You need to get up, El. Something is wrong with your back. We have to go see Manuela.”

Edelgard looked up with an expression of horror before reaching behind her, fingertip brushing over one of the growths. Her eyes widened, and tears welled up again as she silently nodded, at which point Byleth threw herself out of bed and rushed down the hall.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as possible, and rushed just across the pitch-black corridor; knocking thrice upon the heavy wooden door and hearing footsteps come rushing from inside.

Hubert wasted no time in opening the door, black hair unkempt and and astray with both eyes wide in concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but not before Byleth cut him off.

“Yes, it’s Edelgard,” she said. “Something’s wrong, I’m going to get Manuela.”

Hubert nodded and took off down the hall, while Byleth went in the opposite direction and began her descent down the palace’s winding stairs.

With a very grumbly Manuela in tow, Byleth flung the door open and rushed into the room, finding that Edelgard was now far more composed than she had been when Byleth initially left the room. 

Sitting on the side of the bed, she stared downwards as Hubert took a wet washcloth to her back, carefully avoiding the newly merged growths as he cleaned up the trails of blood; trails which still ran fresh down her back and stained the surface of her sheer white nightgown with their deep, all-consuming hue. It was something that she would never have let him do otherwise, and something that she would hesitate to let even Byleth do; but it was just another thing among the many that had changed over the course of that week.

“Alright, what have we here?” Manuela asked, stepping into the room as though she was beginning a routine exam.

“Um—“ Byleth began. “Spikes. On her back.”

Hubert stood up as Manuela approached the bed, gesturing for Edelgard to turn around; and that she did, turning her back to the other woman as Manuela let out a quiet gasp. “Goddess,” she mumbled. “That’s far worse than Linhardt had described.”

“They just... they just won’t stop bleeding,” Hubert said, holding the bloodied cloth somewhat awkwardly as Byleth took to standing beside him.

“What can we do?” Byleth asked.

The nurse muttered something under her breath, brows furrowing. “Believe me, even I haven’t figured that out yet.”

She paused.

“There is something I’m curious about, though.”

Without a word, abandoning her typical chatty nature, Manuela closely examined the skin around the protrusions, pulling it back just enough to reveal a larger mass of black that laid below the spikes. “This might hurt a bit, but please try to stay still,” she said, before placing a finger atop one of the protrusions and pressing downwards. As she pressed, she held her fingers down on the area below the growth, staring intently as she did so.

Edelgard grit her teeth, hands balled into fists in her lap.

“Well, that’s certainly a cause for concern,” Manuela mumbled, easing up the pressure she had placed onto the woman’s back.

Sweat pricked Byleth’s forehead, a lump growing in her throat. “Wh-what is it?”

“If what I’m feeling here is correct,“ Manuela began, “then this ‘growth’ is either connected to her shoulder blade, or is much, much larger beneath the surface.”

Edelgard sucked in a breath.

“Thus, these growths could easily expand outwards.”

Byleth and Hubert exchanged another one of their silent glances, one of combined fear and curiosity as the woman before them fought to keep blood from getting on her coat, wringing her hands as she spoke.

“And, given the state of the surrounding area, and with what little Linhardt has observed of her condition,“ Manuela continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised if her back began to sprout feathers as well.”

“Is there anything at all we can do?” Hubert asked, fidgeting with his hands slightly.

“Not that I can’t think of,” Manuela replied. “Moisturizer only accelerated skin decay on her arms on legs, so I’d try to keep bathing and such to a minimum. And suppressing the feathers only seemed to cause pain. So, in all honesty, all we can do is keep the site of the growths clean as to prevent infection—“

She cut off, swallowing.

“And wait.”

Hubert sighed, giving a polite bow as Manuela stood up to take her leave. “Thank you, ma’am,” He said.

“It’s the least I can offer,” she replied, giving a weak smile before making her exit. And, without even being instructed to, she locked the doors behind her. The clacks of her heels then echoed down the hallway.

Turning to the bed, Edelgard sat there, fiddling with her hands in her lap, gown still undone and back still exposed, with the protrusions beginning to seep blood once again. Staring at her wrists, she began to tug at the feathers.

“If there’s anything you need, you just say the word,” Byleth said, taking a seat beside her.

“Of course,” Hubert added. “You’re, ahem, quite bloody. I could draw you a bath.”

Edelgard shook her head, eyes still downcast. “No, there’s nothing necessary,” she mumbled. “Consider yourself dismissed for the night.”

Hubert nodded and left the room, only turning around once to mouth a farewell to Byleth, before closing the door behind him.

Now in both isolation and silence, Byleth took hold of one of her hands, putting a stop to her incessant feather-plucking, and put an arm around her shoulders; a touch that Edelgard leaned into aptly. With her head falling against Byleth’s chest, she breathed a sigh and allowed her eyes to flitter shut. “I’m just so tired,” she said.

“I know,”!Byleth whispered. “And I wish I could do something about it.”

Edelgard tensed. “It’s just...” she began, “when this happened to the others, they were gone so quick. It happened in a matter of days. But here I am... it’s just— it’s happening so slowly.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Byleth replied, a deep knot tying itself into her stomach. “Maybe it means you’ll make it.”

Edelgard tensed. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” she mumbled. “Although... I too wish it to be true.”

Byleth tried to give a smile, but her own forced happiness was soon overshadowed by the warm sensation blood wetting her arms, and the pain of nails digging into her skin as the woman in her arms began to tremble and cry, sinking down into her lap.

Sighing, she ran a finger through Edelgard’s hair, noting the dry, flaky skin that now covered the length of her neck. 

Dawn just couldn’t arrive soon enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god trying to format this has been a mess, and I hereby formally apologize to the 4 people who apparently clicked on this mess while I was trying to figure out my scattered HTML.


	4. Combat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is when the “graphic depiction of violence” warning first kicks in, lads! (Expect more of it later, though.)

Not but several days after the emergence of the spikes on her back, Edelgard made her first effort to reintegrate herself amongst the the rest of her team, choosing to do so by showing up to breakfast (but only after ensuring that her dress did a suitable enough job at covering the spikes). During the meal, Herbert, Ferdinand rushed into the dining hall with word of imperial soldiers having gotten caught up in a skirmish with bandits during a routine patrol, emphasizing that the troops may not return if left idle.

Edelgard, having kept to herself for most of the meal, pushed her plate aside. “Then we’ll go,” she said.

Hubert tensed, glass in hand. “Your majesty, are you sure?” he asked, shooting a glance to Byleth as she ate.

She replied with a glare of equal intensity.

“Of course I am, Hubert,” Edelgard said, not skipping a beat as she put down her fork and brought a napkin to her mouth. “Will I not grow weak without routine training?”

Byleth placed a hand over Edegard’s wrist, feeling as feathers pricked through her sleeves. “But El, bandits are a far cry from training; what if you get hurt out there?”

“I only serve to put myself in more danger if I allow myself to grow sloppy and unskilled without training,” she replied.

Both Byleth and Hubert opened their mouths to refute her claim, but they were swiftly cut off by Petra; who rose out of her chair at the other end of the table and looked out over the others. “If Edelgard is wishing to train, and feeling confident about it, then I think we should let her,” she said. “And if we are being there beside her, then we can protect her!”

Hubert grumbled in discontent, but glanced across the table to see that most of his allies, including Byleth, were nodding.

“Yeah! And it’ll also be a great chance for us to test our skills as a team!” Caspar exclaimed, slamming his fist down upon the table.

“M-maybe the fresh air will be good for everyone,” Bernadetta added.

Dorothea and Linhardt, seated next to Petra and Caspar respectively, seemed somewhat pensive as they thought; but both eventually joined in on the nodding and agreed on the excursion; much to the joy of their battle-ready dining partners.

“You’ll have your best healer on standby, so I wouldn’t worry too much,” Linhardt said. “And Dorothea is plenty capable of healing as well.”

“And we had all of the armor polished and repaired last week,” Dorothea added, “so rest assured that our defense is both attractive and in good condition.”

Hubert knit his brows together, sighing. “I suppose it’s not much of a question, then; so it?” he said, looking over to Byleth. “In that case, will you give us our orders?”

Byleth turned towards Edelgard, who seemed both calm and confident as she stared out over the table, nodding along with her allies. But, beneath the thin, loose fabric of her dresses’ sleeves, Byleth could feel her feathers raising, spiking up; a gesture which Byleth had come to interpret as surprise, or fear.

She hesitated.

“We’ll go,” she finally said, to which a smile formed in the corners of Edelgard’s eyes, while the feathers only poised higher.

On the field, tensions ran high as the eagles dove in and out of conflict, weapons clashing and armor clanking together as they fought.

Byleth was glad they came, however, as they soon discovered that the leader of the bandits had a rather high bounty placed upon him, and that he was a fighter far too seasoned to be taken on by their underpowered patrol troops.

Glancing at Edelgard, though, she felt a rock form in her stomach. It wasn’t as though the emperor was bad at fighting — no, far from it. Rather, she was alight with the spirit of battle, dealing her axe with levity. The weapon almost seemed to dance in her hands as she sliced through the armor of bandit after bandit; blood soon coming to cover most of her chestplate.

Nonetheless, both Byleth and Hubert kept a close eye on her majesty, sharing countless split-second glances and wordless nods, and coming to Edelgard’s defenses whenever they deemed it necessary.

“Fools! Put down your weapons and surrender!” Edelgard cried, tilting her axe downwards as she glared at the bandit leader. “You’ve no chance of winning!”

The bandit leader cackled, his scarred face contorting into a sneer as he spoke. “Like I’d ever surrender to a fuckin’ woman!”

He set foot out onto the field, stepping off of the stronghold he previously stood high upon. He bore a dingy, rusted axe; one with dried blood and clotted gore clinging to it‘s dulled edge. As he strode, the last of his men drew back and rushed to his side, weapons trembling in their weakened hands.

“Are you really intending to challenge me?” Edelgard asked, gripping her axe tightly.

“You and you alone, girly!” The bandit leader replied, another throaty laugh escaping his mouth.

In a flash, he broke into a sprint, axe raised high above his head as a scream filled the air.

Byleth tensed as weapons met armor, with Edelgard’s scream soon coming to join that of the bandit’s as they engaged in close combat, axes swirling about as they fought. 

A scream turned to an ear-splitting shriek, and Byleth rushed forward as blood began to pool around their feet, with several other bandits rushing up to Edelgard in the chaos. 

“Byleth, quickly!” Hubert called.

Rushing to her side, the two rushed forward, with weapons held tight and magic cram long through the air, their eyes focused firmly ahead on her majesty. But both stopped just short of the two combatants as a flurry of black blocked their sight.

The bandit leader dropped to the ground alongside Edelgard’s axe; the silver weapon now firmly lodged in the flesh of his neck, just an inch away decapitating him.

Edelgard stood, panting, before falling to her knees.

“Your majesty!” Hubert shouted, boots digging into the blood-coated earth.

Byleth skidded to a halt. “Did he wound you, El?!” She knelt before the emperor and brushed a hand over her stained armor, breathing a sigh when she felt no breaks; although, something else did catch her eye.

Around Edelgard‘s shoulders, two black tendrils fell limply, each one wet and leaving bloodstains in their wake as they flailed wildly over her armor, protruding from the cracks in her shoulderplates, and moved in synchronicity with her breathing.

“N-no, I definitely wounded him worse,” Edelgard replied, moving out a hand to grab her axe. “Did they... did the others retreat?”

Byleth moved a hand to stop her, still staring at the tendrils on her back. “I think so.”

Hubert stared with equal shock, eyes wide as he watched the two growths slowly come to paint the back of her armor in blood. 

Without a word, he knelt down alongside Byleth and took one of the tendrils in hand. 

He grit his teeth. “Seiros almighty.”

“I said he didn’t wound me, you two,” she said, pulling away from the other woman’s grasp. “What are you even looking at?” She then moved to stand; but froze dead in place when one of the tendrils brushed up against her face, smearing blood over her cheek.

Footsteps approached. “WINGS!” a voice behind them cried. “Edie! You’ve got wings!”

The rest of the strike force gathered around them, mouths agape and weapons falling to the ground as they stared.

“Did that.. happen just now?” Ferdinand asked, pointing a finger in her direction.

Byleth gripped Edelgard’s hand, lifting her to her feet while Hubert moved to shield the two with his cape. “It’s rude to point, you know,” he hissed, “and to stare.”

Dorothea crossed her arms. “Hubie, you can’t expect someone to NOT stare when they see a person with wings.”

“Yeah!” Bernadetta piped up, still gripping her bow tightly. “How long were you waiting to tell us that our leader t-turned into a... into a... a dragon... thing?!”

“She’s not a dragon!” Byleth exclaimed. She tried in vain to dry off the profusely-bleeding appendages with the edge of her coat, finding that the flow of blood was seemingly never-ending as her coat soon grew drenched in red.

“Then why on earth does she have WINGS?!” Caspar said.

“It’s a... condition; one that we are still struggling to understand,” Hubert replied, drawing back his cape as Edelgard pushed forward towards the strike force. He then confirms: “but it doesn’t mean she’s a ‘dragon,’ or anything similar; nor does it mean that she is no longer your emperor.”

“Thank you, Hubert,” Edelgard said with a nod, now looking out over the rest of the eagles.

“Edie, when Hubie told us not to bother you, and especially after I saw you, we all assumed it was just ‘that time of the month’ for you.” Dorothea said with a frown. “But... this? This seems serious. You should have told us.”

“I am in agreement,” Petra said. “Then we could share your burden.”

“Speak for yourself,” Linhardt replied, grimacing slightly. “Had I told Caspar that her majesty was growing feathers, all of Enbarr would have known in a week.”

“And I appreciate your dedication to my privacy,” Edelgard began, pausing before continuing. “But I also recognize that I likely would have had to tell all of you at one point or another. And it is as it appears: I am undergoing some... physical changes. Rest assured, however: my strength remains the same, as well as my mental capabilities. And the both professor and Hubert are working very closely with Manuela and Linhardt to determine a cure. But, until then, I can only hope that none of you come to treat me any different; wings or no wings.”

Caspar punched Linhardt in the shoulder. “Hey, it’s not I’m not some sort of gossip!” he said, as the other man stumbled from the impact. “My lips would have been sealed, and I would’ve pummeled anyone who I caught badmouthing her!”

“Rest assured: as I, too, hold no prejudice against anyone suffering from any sort of medical condition; no matter the symptoms,” Ferdinand added with a smile. “We will all do our best to ensure your comfort in this time.”

“Of course!” Bernadetta replied. “i can’t do much, but I can do laundry, and I can find plants to make medicine from.”

“Ooh, Brigid and Fódlan share many of the same medicinal plants; I can help you with that!” Petra exclaimed.

Linhardt shook his head. “Any experimental medicines will have to go through me before her majesty ingests them,” he said, “even if she, personally, approved of it beforehand.”

The other eagles nodded, echoing his sentiment before they all turned towards their previously-silent leaders.

Byleth was practically bursting with pride at the sudden uniformity of her group, a smile having crept across her face. “Thank you, everyone,” she said, placing a hand over her chest. “All of your efforts are appreciated, and I’m sure Edelgard shares the sentiment.”

Glancing over at the emperor, Byleth noted that she too bore a sizable smile, but that smile didn’t reach her eyes; instead, she stared off into space. With her hands at her sides, she fumbled with the gauntlets of her armor, wings flexing behind her back.

“Ah, but, for the time being,” Byleth continued, trying her best not to stare at the still-bloodied appendages flailing beside her, “I think it’s best that we all return to Enbarr to recuperate. I’m sure Edelgard could use the rest.”

Hubert nodded, and both he and Ferdinand took off to arrange a carriage to take them all back to Enbarr.

In the sudden silence, Dorothea approached and wrapped her arms around the emperor’s shoulders, with her wings just barely ducking out of the way in what might have been a subconscious attempt to save a friend from being bloodied. “Edie, all of use are ready to give it our 100% and more,” she said before laughing. “We’ve clearly all been slacking off for the past month, so it’s about time that you gave us a mission.”

“We haven’t been slacking off!” Bernadetta stammered. “And just look at us, we’re on a mission right now!”

“But we we really all on a mission if Edelgard did most of the work for us?” Caspar said, chiming in; having been in the process of gathering most of his teammate’s weapons as the carriage pulled into the forest clearing.

“She really didn’t hold back out there...” Linhardt said, musing: “perhaps these ‘new additions’ grant her some form of strength.”

Edelgard sighed. “Must you speak of me as though I am not present?” she asked, peeling Dorothea off of her as she tried to settle the wings against her back.

Byleth couldn’t even count the amount of times they’d smeared blood against her sleeve.

“Oh, we’re sorry, Edie,” Dorothea replied, “but it really is just so fascinating!” 

The carriage settled in just a few feet from spot the where the empower stood. “And you’ll have plenty of time to talk about it back at the palace!” Hubert called, seated at the front of the carriage with reins in hand. “Let’s get going.”

The eagles then piled into the carriage, with Ferdinand happily climbing into the seat next to Hubert and taking hold of the second pair of reigns, beginning what was easily going to be a full hour of chatter about various teas and all the tenets of noble teatime etiquette.

Edelgard let herself be helped into the carriage, with Byleth offering a hand to her a soon as she herself had climbed in. Byleth expected her to want some rest, but after they sat down, Edelgard sat poised with perfect posture, wings still twitching about behind her.

Byleth briefly considered telling the woman to simply lean against her, propping the wings up against a pillow instead, but she ultimately decided against it, noting the stern look on Edelgard’s face, and the erratic, uncontrollable flails of her new growths.

The carriage ride was unsettlingly quiet.

Back in Enbarr, Byleth sat with Edelgard atop their unmade bed and combed clotted blood out of her wings; which had come to bear feathers over the course of the carriage ride home. Although she wouldn’t admit it, the growths nauseated her every time they flailed around and thwacked her in the face, to which Edelgard would profusely apologize and insist that she bore no control over them. Nonetheless, however, she worked dutifully and plucked out clot after clot from the tangled mess of downy feathers.

“Do they feel any lighter?” Byleth asked, leaning back as Edelgard tried to flap her wings about.

They were just shy of a foot long in length, with small, hooked protrusions (almost resembling fingers) running along their sides. The feathers they bore were small and soft, and didn’t cover much of their surface. Byleth wondered if they would one day come to resemble an eagle’s wings, wider than she was tall, and feathered in full.

“A little bit,” Edelgard replied, bringing a hand to one as it just barely stretched over her shoulder. “Although, I doubt I’ll ever get fully used to having... wings.”

She fluttered them for emphasis, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to sit beside the other woman.

Byleth laughed. “Hopefully you won’t have to.”

“Agreed,” Edelgard smiled, weaving their fingers together as they spoke. “I want nothing more than to put this aside as soon as possible, By. You know that.”

Byleth nodded. “Me too,” said, pressing a kiss to the other woman’s forehead. “Then you can get back to being your usual calm, dignified, and oh-so lovable self.”

Edelgard mumbled a petulant complaint, but soon leaned into the touch with a much-needed sigh; tension slipping from her shoulders as her wings relaxed against her back.

For once, the night seemed like a promise of rest, more than the omen of a cry that would come ringing out later.


	5. Explanation

The night maintained it’s promise, and the pair slept soundly; although Byleth could have done without Edelgard’s wings hitting her in the face every five minutes.

The next nights followed a similar pattern. Byleth, with a fine-toothed comb, would brush the clotted gore out of Edelgard’s growths, the mercenary rambling about all matters of things while the other woman stayed dead silent, head bowed with her hands in her lap. Then, she’d tuck her freshly-preened wings against her back, accept a kiss, and then put herself to bed; falling asleep before Byleth could even join her. It was a behavior that Byleth certainly found concerning, if not downright frustrating. 

Come morning, however, Edelgard would return to her normal self; firm, but not stern, poised, but not cold. Still, though , Byleth certainly could have done without being given the cold shoulder, night in and night out.

She also could have done without the amount of blood that would come to cover their comforter over the course of any given night. At the very least, they had had the foresight to swap out their old, woolen white blanket for a washable, linen black one in the week prior. Still, it did require washing, but at least she and Hubert were able to get it clean and dried in time to have a late breakfast on the balcony.

“You know, your majesty,” Hubert began, placing the teapot back down upon it’s saucer as he spoke. “I think the wings quite suit you.”

“Are you really making a joke about this?” Byleth asked, scone in hand as she spoke.

“If he is, it isn’t particularly entertaining,” Edelgard added.

“Believe me, I speak in earnest!” Hubert replied, taking a seat between the two women after serving their tea. “Imagine a horde of, say, underground smugglers trembling in fear, their faces contorted in horror as the Adrestian emperor emerges into battle, wings outstretched and axe in hand,” he said with bravado, gesturing wildly before the table. “Why, they’d be fools to challenge such a frightful, imposing ruler!”

Byleth snorted, barely stifling a laugh as she leaned into the table.

Edelgard’s face flushed pink. “W-well,“ she stammered, “even if I did keep the wings, I doubt I’d go showing them off in battle.” She placed her teacup down with a clang. “Especially if my opponents were mere smugglers.”

“You had no problem showing them off a few days ago to those bandits,” Byleth said. “They got an eyeful of a REAL Black Eagle.”

“Stop it, you two!”

“Alright, alright,” Hubert chuckled. “We relent.”

“‘We?’ Aww, what a bummer...” Byleth said with a smile. “I wanted to see if her feathers wouldn’t eventually turn as red as her face is.”

Although she refused to let it be seen, with her head bowed down as she dipped a scone into her tea, the edges of Edelgard’s eyes wrinkled into a smile; one that had become far too rare a sight for Byleth’s liking. It made Byleth herself put on a genuine grin as the three sat in peace, a comfortable quiet falling between the three of them.

“I do wonder how you’ll keep them hidden when you next address the public, however,” Hubert said. “I doubt we can hide the wings with a long-sleeved dress.”

The man was indeed correct, as Edelgard’s wings had only grown over the past few days. They were now well-over a foot in length, and their plumage was coming along quite nicely; the growths now bearing distinguished feathers as opposed to a downy fluff.

“Could we bind them to her back, and have her wear a cape?” Byleth suggested, noting how the emperor’s wings had relaxed over the back of her chair, instead of flailing about of their own volition; thrashing about in the manner which they had just after their initial emergence.

Edelgard stared down at her tea. “I... I think that’d hurt.” 

“Quite severely,” Hubert added. “They are a part of her, of course. We can’t go around treating them like an object.”

Byleth focused on that one phrase: a part of her.

Looking at the woman, it almost was hard to picture her without the features that had grown to become so prominent. Her entire forearms now bore sleek, black fathers, and they had slowly begun to creep over her biceps and shoulders as well. Meanwhile, the feathers on her legs had trailed up to her knees, alongside patches of skin that were beginning to flake around her stomach and thighs as an omen of oncoming feather growth. And her wings, getting larger by the day, draped over her chair in an almost elegant manner, bringing her a great amount of dignity and poise as she sat there conversing with her vassal.

It was then that Byleth caught herself staring, and hastily took a sip of her tea.

“In all honesty, I’m hoping we can find a safe way to end this whole mess before I need to address the public for anything,” Edelgard said, finishing a scone. “And especially before I take upon the task of finding a successor.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Hubert replied. “A slip-up during one of those meetings could mean life or death for the empire; both politically and economically. It’s far too risky.”

“Well, has Linhardt found anything yet?” Byleth asked as the man next to her wordlessly refilled her teacup. “On the topic of your condition, I mean.”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Edelgard replied as Hubert reached to fill her teacup as well. “If he did, then I’m sure we’d hear all about it immediately.”

Hubert leaned back in his chair, finally refilling his own cup as he spoke. “From what I hear, he’s been trying to come up with a name for it.”

“A name?” Edelgard asked. “Why on earth could he possibly be so focused on a name?”

“Yeah, why not just call it ‘evil mysterious feather disease,’ or something of the sort?” Byleth asked. “Or, I don’t know, get rid of it so quickly that it doesn’t even need a name in the first place? That sounds like a great idea to me!”

“He wants to coin a term for it before Manuela tries to submit record of it to any medical journal,” Hubert replied.

“Ah, notoriety. That’s what he wants.”

“Perhaps,” Edelgard said, furrowing her brow. “But I don’t believe his intentions are misplaced. He does seem quite concerned.”

“‘Quite’ is an understatement,” Hubert said. “Everyone on the force seems to be tripping over themselves trying to help you.”

“Dorothea nearly fell down the stairs today trying to bring you a basket of clean nightgowns,” Byleth remarked. “And Bernadetta’s even been out in Enbarr every night to bring home ingredients for dinner; which Petra has been cooking.”

“Bernadetta? Willingly going out into the city?” Hubert asked, a wry smile creeping onto his lips. “And here I thought I’d see boars fly before she gained such confidence.”

The table laughed, and Byleth could only stare as Edelgard shook and smiled, basking in the warmth of the moment. Her wings flapped slightly with each breath, threatening to knock a plate of pastries off the table in the process; but Byleth didn’t dare interrupt.

“On that note,” Hubert began, having actually dared to interrupt the moment when Byleth did not. “Most of the force hasn’t had a chance to speak with you since the last battle. Shall we drop in on their empire-sanctioned breakfast to remind them that you’re alive?”

“I’d like that,” Edelgard replied, placing her teacup and saucer back into the tea-set. “We shall.”

The ruckus of the dining table quieted down a bit as Edelgard stepped into the room, but that ruckus was soon replaced with another form of mindless sound as the eagles beckoned Edelgard over to a seat.

“I won’t be eating,” she reminded them. “I’ve already had breakfast.”

“Aw, Edie, this isn’t about eating!” Dorothea cooed, patting the seat next to her as Edelgard approached. “We’re just happy to see you.”

“Or, at the very least, happy to see that your wings look a lot better than they did the last time we saw them.” Linhardt added. “Not that I ever studied ornithology, or anything of the sort.”

A clang rang out across the table as Caspar sat up in his seat. “Nah, you don’t need to be an expert to see that those look great!” he said, pointing a forkful of ham towards the emperor. “She might just fly off any minute now!”

“It... would actually be kinda cool if she could fly with them,” Bernadetta mused. “It’d be something out of a story book.”

“Ooh, or an opera!” Dorothea smiled, before placing one hand in the air and one against her chest as a song escaped her lips. _“Gaze upon her mighty form, as she soars high in the sky— feel the breaking winds of dawn, as she sounds a piercing cry— with her wings spread far, she will conquer all, hail Edelgard!”_

Petra clapped and beckoned the others to applaud, to which Bernadetta shyly obliged. 

At the other end of the table, however, Caspar smacked a fist against the table and looked as though he might choke on his mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Edelgard brought a hand to her face, cheeks flushed with a bright pink. “I don’t think anyone will be writing any operas about my wings, Dorothea,” she began, “because I intend to rid myself of them as soon as possible.”

Most of the table nodded, but some seemed surprised at the revelation.

Bernadetta piped up, eyes wide. “How are you gonna get rid of them? Because I, uh, d-don’t think there’s a surgery for that.”

“And are you really just gonna give up having WINGS?!” Caspar sputtered.

“If there is an operation that can be performed, then Manuela will likely perform the procedure,” Linhardt said. “However, given the nature of the condition, I’d need to be on standby and observe the operation.” He then paused to gulp, hesitating on the last few words. “Or even operate myself.”

“And that should be no issue for you,” Hubert said, cutting in where the green-haired man had trailed off. “You’re a seasoned healer, and it is her majesty you’re dealing with.”

Edelgard smiled. “Of course. Should it come to that, I have complete faith in you.”

Linhardt grimaced, nodding. “A-actually, I do have something to speak with you about,” he said, pushing back his plate and standing up from his chair. “Edelgard, Byleth, Hubert, I’d appreciate if you could all meet me in my quarters once you’re done here; preferably sooner rather than later.”

He then made a swift exit, which seemed to prompt Caspar to grow all more rambunctious as he described the possible use of wings in combat to a wide-eyed Petra. And amidst that chaos, Byleth found it fit to usher both the emperor and her retainer out of the room

Leaving, she briefly locked eyes with Dorothea; who nodded and began making work of the messy table.

And, walking out into the palace’s courtyard, Byleth wondered when nonverbal communication had become such an essential part of their functioning as a team.

Entering the academic’s quarters, Byleth was immediately met with a conspiracy wall of information on crests,with cutouts from dictionaries and excerpts of bizarre medical terminology strewn about.

Linhardt prompted the trio to sit, and took to leaning against a bookcase as he spoke.

“Now, if I’m correct: Edelgard has two crests, yes?” he began.

Edelgard’s eyes widened slightly, but she eventually nodded. “I believe I’ve either told most of you, or you’ve figured it out by now.”

“Right,” he continued. “You bear a Minor Crest of Seiros, and a Major Crest of Flames. You were born with the minor crest, and the major crest was then forced onto you artificially.”

Hubert eyed the man with suspicion as he spoke.

“Well, I believe that, up until this point, your minor crest and major crest were able to coexist in relative harmony. And, far as I’m aware, you only ever used your Minor Crest of Seiros, because that’s what was written on most of your medical records throughout your academy days.”

He began to pace about the room as he spoke, gesturing vaguely in front of his face. 

Now, with the man closer than a table’s length away, Byleth noticed the bags beneath his eyes, and the unkempt nature of his hair.

“But I suspect that, some reason or another,” he muttered, “your body as since taken to drawing more power from your Major Crest of Flames. And, given that one is a minor crest and one is a major crest, the major crest is now attempting to suppress the minor crest.”

“Yeah, yeah; that’s interesting and all. But does it have to do with... all this?” Byleth asked, raising a hand to one of Edelgard’s wings; which had begun to sway about idly as she listened.

“I’m getting there, just wait,” Linhardt replied. “Now, I’m sure you all remember how, when a crestless person tries to use a weapon or tool which draws it’s power from a crest, like a relic, that person is overtaken by the directionless magic power and their body is swallowed whole, transforming them into a beast.”

The trio nodded.

“Like Miklan Gautier,” Hubert added.

“Correct. He’s the most frequently-cited case on the matter. And it’s hypothesized that that occurs due to the crest power within the weapon attempting to take dominion over the crestless body, by turning it into the very manifestation of it’s ability,” the academic continued. “Anyway, what I believe is occurring here — and this is only a hypothesis — is that the Major Crest of Flames is attempting to do just that, transform you into a beast in a vain attempt at gaining total control; because it can sense that it doesn’t have full dominion over your body. But, one way or another, the Minor Crest of Seiros is holding it back; all by either thwarting the changes or slowing them down, leading to the effects we’re observing now. In short: both crests are battling for dominion, for hegemony, which leads me to my next point.”

He paused, taking in a breath.

“I’ve actually come up with a name for this process: hegemonifacation; to attain hegemony, to become the Hegemon.”

For emphasis, he pointed to the spot on the wall where he had cut the word out from a dictionary; with several arrows on other pieces of paper placed near it, surrounding it.

“Hegemon,” Edelgard mumbled, as though to try out the word. Her wings fluttered as she spoke, the feathers on her shoulders rising.

“Wait, wait, wait; slow down there, buddy,” Byleth interrupted. “Are you telling me that Edelgard’s gonna transform into a beast?!”

Edelgard tensed.

“Let me finish!” he snapped back. “My second hypothesis is that, if we remove some of the growths, it might aid in the suppression of the Major Crest of Flames, forcing it back into the semi-dormant state it was in beforehand.”

“How interesting,” Hubert mused.

Edelgard looked up, wings fully flaring to life. “So, removing the wings might actually help?”

Linhardt nodded. “But, of course, we’d have to make an actual attempt at removal in order to test my hypothesis,” he said. “And to attempt that would be to perform surgery; which I am not qualified to advise for. You’d have to consult Manuela about that.”

Hubert moved to get up, thanking the man him for his time, but Edelgard cut him off; one wing outstretched and blocking the doorway. 

“I’ll take it,” she said.

Byleth whirred her head around, breath hitching, and heart lurching in her chest. “You don’t have to, El, it was just an idea.”

“And it’s an idea I’m willing to try,” Edelgard reiterated. “All post-war political tensions have been subdued for a while now; I can afford to take time off to recuperate from surgery, especially if it’s going to be a mostly external job thanks to these... things,” she said, gesturing to her growths for good measure. “And if it’ll help, all the better.”

A smile crept onto Linhardt’s face as he began gathering papers from the desk behind him. “We’ll talk to Manuela soon, then,” he said.

“I hope you’re confident about this, your majesty,” Hubert said, brow furrowed with lips pressed into a thin line. “But, regardless, do know that I will do nothing to stop you.”

“Believe me, Hubert,” Edelgard replied, “I wouldn’t go through with it if I wasn’t completely confident. And, besides, I’ll have you two there with me.”

She reached for both Hubert and Byleth’s hands, squeezing their wrists with a gentle smile; one that Byleth could only briefly return before the sleep-deprived man in front of them began making arrangements for the operation.

In a flurry, he began to gather books from his bookshelf, rambling to himself before guiding the others out of his office.

It all seemed so mundane in the minutiae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE’S WHERE I PUT ALL MY RIDICULOUSLY DETAILED CREST HEADCANONS BECAUSE INTSYS GAVE US SO LITTLE ACTUAL LORE TO WORK WITH.


	6. Scalpels

The preparations were shockingly swift. 

Within a week, Linhardt had compiled enough obscure medical texts and avian anatomy charts in order to confidently plan the surgery, whilst Manuela sat up a small surgical theater within with castle courtyard; with both members of the pair specifically having it set as close to the palace as possible, should any hiccups occur during Edelgard’s recovery.

And for the first time in a over a month, Edelgard seemed to return to her normal self; even if only for a week. She spent more time out in the palace, and had fully dedicated herself to making an effort to talk to every single eagle, every single day.

Of course, her mask would slip now and then; like, for instance, when she’d lose track of her wings, and end up knocking plates off of a table, or when she’d leave stray feathers trailing throughout the palace without even realizing they were falling. In moments like those, she’d sigh, look at Byleth with a tired smile, and ask: “do I really have to wait until next week just to get rid of these?”

And, after what felt like an eternity, the week in question finally arrived.

“I do hope you’re ready for this,” Hubert said, leaning against the wall of the makeshift hospital room as Manuela explained the intricacies of the procedure; a plan which had only been fully finalized the night beforehand.

Edelgard let out a breath. “Do you truly think I’d be going through with this if I wasn’t completely prepared?” she replied, legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

The table beside her had already been prepped with various sharp instruments and local anesthetics. And, propped up on a lectern by the bed, there sat a scroll detailing the bone and muscular structure of eagle wings; illustrations of carnivorous birds lining the yellowed edges of the paper.

“Fair enough,” he grumbled, as he stared intently at a scalpel that balanced atop a bottle of antibiotic fluid.

“Well,“ Byleth began, taking Edelgard’s hands into her own as she spoke, “if she’s confident, then confident.”

Edelgard leaned up, pecking the other woman on the lips. “Thank you, By.”

Tucked into the hospital bed, Edelgard looked far, far smaller than she usually did; even with the spiked growths crowning her body, and her wings laying limply behind her. But, now dressed in nothing but a thin gown, it was easy to see how thin she had become. Her wrists were small, with flaky skin clinging tightly to her collarbones. And dark bags had come to etch themselves in the space beneath her eyes, far darker than they had ever been before. She almost reminded Byleth of the infected individuals they’d fought against in Remire Village, all those years ago.

And, although it could have been a mistake, she could almost swear that Edelgard’s eyes had taken upon the slightest, faintest, just barely-visible red sheen.

She gulped.

The moment of quiet was soon broken as Manuela stepped into the room, heels clacking against the floor as she carried a bottle of unlabeled liquid. Miscellaneous stains already dotted the apron she had tied ever her dress. “Alright, since you’re already settled in,” she said, “I think it’s safe to go ahead and get some anesthetic in your system.”

Edelgard gripped Byleth’s hands, wings fluttering slightly against her back.

The nurse dipped the tip of a syringe into the bottle, drawing up the murky substance until the syringe was full. “Oh, and by the way,” she hummed, staring up at the vial as she double-checked the dosage. “Have either of you seen Linhardt wandering around? I haven’t seen him since the morning; and he was supposed to be here by know.”

“I saw him earlier. He’s been pacing out in his office like a madman since dawn,” Hubert said. “Shall I go and fetch him for you?”

“Please do,” Manuela replied.

The dark-haired man took off in an instant, looking a shade paler than he had been mere moments beforehand as he rushed out the door. 

Byleth wondered: was he bothered by needles? Or what it just because it was Edelgard they were dealing with? 

Chuckling, she settled on the latter explanation.

Then again, she herself felt a pit of nausea settle itself in her stomach as the syringe glistened in the light, liquid beading at it’s sharp, silvery tip. 

But if seeing the needle was enough to make her stomach turn, then she couldn’t imagine what it had to be like for Edelgard. Surely, just then, she had to be thinking about the time she spent beneath the palace.

 _This palace, right below the very space where we stand,_ Byleth noted.

Edelgard shivered as Manuela prodded against the flesh of her inner-elbow, which was almost fully covered by her feathers. “This shouldn’t hurt much, dear,” Manuela said, lowering the tip of the syringe.

Gritting her teeth, and flaring her wings out just enough that they brushed against the bed frame, the needle pushed through her skin, and Manuela counted down from ten as the fluid entered her veins.

“Very good,” she hummed as she withdrew the needle. “That should kick in around 5 to 10 minutes.”

Byleth rubbed a hand against Edelgard’s shoulder, noting how soft the feathers there had become. “I’m proud of you.”

Edelgard gave a weak smile, but Byleth could still see the fear showing through her face; eyes wide as she stared down at her own lap, wings rising and falling against her back.

Although she didn’t know the specifics, Byleth could imagine that the technology she encountered underground all those years ago was not unlike that of the medical technology they had in the present day; if not just a tad more advanced. Although, she prayed that the presence of close allies and loved ones was enough to offset the memories of a cold, dark cage; of concrete stained with dried blood.

Hubert stepped back into the room, a slightly-frazzled Linhardt trailing behind him in a makeshift surgical down. “Here he is,” Hubert said, a peculiar note of joy present in his voice as he ushered Linhardt into the room.

“Feeling pleased with yourself, are you?” Linhardt grumbled, tucking back the stray strands of hair that had escaped his hair tie. “You do realize that I _want_ to do this, correct? I _am_ trying to help,” he said.

“And that’s kind of you, Linhardt.” Byleth smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do fine; regardless of wether your assistance is needed or not.”

The man seemed to brighten up a bit, but his face still remained white as a sheet as he sifted through a hefty book of medical records.

“You should probably go ahead and lay down, dear,” Maneula said. “The anesthesia should be kicking in about any minute now; so you’ll probably start to feel a little woozy soon.”

“Will do,” Edelgard replied, gaze affixed, staring off into space as she tried to settle down on the bed. With a grumble, she managed to tuck her wings beneath her.

Manuela rifled through cabinets around the room and brought out vial after vial of bizarre substances, alongside hefty amounts of bandages and tape. She laid all of them out on a rolling stand near the bed, and prepared a pair of gloves drenched in antibacterial fluid. The room soon flooded with the scent of acidic chemicals and bitter medicine.

“We’ll be right here when you wake up, your majesty,” Hubert said. “Not a moment later.”

Byleth nodded. “Of course.”

“I know you will,” Edelgard replied. Laying on the bed, she gave a soft smile, a single glimmer of courage alighting on her eyes.

Now fully-suited in surgical gear, a mask pulled over her mouth, Manuela gestured for Edelgard to roll over onto her stomach. She then began prepping her back with a local numbing agent, circling the spot where her wings joined her shoulder blades. Within moments, the off-color gel soaked into her skin, and Manuela began to prepare various tools, setting them down upon on the bedside table.

Hubert turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway, whirring around to face Linhardt as he prepped his own mask. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll have your head,” he said with a hiss, leaving before the other man could even respond.

Byleth turned to follow, but ducked her head back into the room one final time, watching Edelgard’s eyelashes slowly flutter downwards as Manuela used a pen to draw the guidelines for an incision.

“I love you,” she whispered.

In one of the palace’s main rooms, Hubert incessantly tapped his foot against the ground, brow furrowed as he muttered beneath his breath.

“It’s rare to see you so worried,” Byleth remarked, twiddling with a strand of her own hair.

“Well, it’s not often that I actually am this worried,” the man replied. With teeth grit, he sighed. “They’re probably cutting into her back about now.”

Byleth wandered to and fro, boots scraping against the palace carpet as their voices echoed throughout the empty audience chamber. “And I’m sure things are going fine,” she said, choosing to ignore the knot that was tying itself into her own stomach. “They told us it wouldn’t be invasive; all they have to do is take the wings off.”

Her heartbeat was erratic, unnervingly so. Were heartbeats usually like that? She’d barely had one long enough to tell.

Shaking her head, she quickened her pace.

“True,” Hubert mused, “but how many surgeries have ever been performed on wings? Next to zero?”

Her heart lurched. “I saw some papers they had prepared when we were in there. It looked like they were using anatomical diagrams of bird wings to go off of.”

“Hopefully that will be enough.”

A silence fell between the two; a type that was different from their usual, more comfortable silences. The room rang with the sounds of deep sighs and that of boots scuffing against the carpet as Hubert, too, soon took to pacing the space before the door; the two stepping in synchronicity as they walked parallel to each other.

Brushing shoulders, Byleth halted.

“Something wrong?”

“Um, well,“ Byleth began, “it just occurred to me that, uh, if the surgery takes too long...” She began to trail off. “Perhaps we could... go grab something for lunch?”

Hubert stared at her, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You know, just... to pass time, I guess?” she said, fiddling with the edges of her coat. “You know, since it might take a—“

The corners of his mouth upturned ever-so-slightly, before he let out a throaty chuckle. “I suppose so,” he said, taking a deep breath as his shoulders slumped. “That would certainly be more productive than whatever it is that we’re doing here right now.”

And so, they made way for the kitchen.

They were sitting out in the courtyard with sandwiches and drinks when Linhardt approached, surgical apron still adorned with stray smears of blood as he rushed towards the gazebo.

“Edelgard’s awake,” he said in between pants.

Byleth and Hubert were outside her door in an instant, both muttering wildly to each other as they waited for Manuela to unlock the door on the other side.

Inside the operating room, Edelgard laid propped up on the bed, bandages wrapped around the full length of her torso with a few strands wrapped over the collarbones, just for good measure. Her hair had fallen around her shoulders, tangled and slightly wavy. Most notably, though, was the fact that, somewhere in-between pre-op and post-op, her surgical gown had been discarded; and she sat with only a blanket pulled up to her waist.

Hubert ducked his head into the room, before ducking out just as swiftly. “Y-your majesty!” he stammered. “You should have said something!”

Maneula laughed from inside. “It’s fine!” she called. “It’s strictly medical!”

Still, the sound of rustling fabric followed and Manuela formally invited them into the room, with Edelgard now wearing a clean gown.

Byleth rushed to her bedside, clasping one of her hands as she sat down. Her heart’s pace began to steady. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, prompting a shy smile from the other woman.

Edelgard mumbled in reply. “I suppose I’m proud of myself too.”

Hubert awkwardly followed, with Linhardt trailing behind him.

“You’ll be happy to know that things went phenomenally,” Manuela said, sitting across the room and thumbing through a file. “Of course, it was in no small part thanks to my assistant here.”

Linhardt nodded, prompting a wry smile from Hubert.

“It looks like I had no reason to doubt you,” he said.

“Well, the fact that I didn’t want to be blasted to death with dark magic certainly helped,” Linhardt replied.

Manuela rose out of her chair and stepped across the room, placing a checklist in Byleth’s hands. “I plan on keeping her here overnight, just to observe her,” she said. “But, in the meantime, I’d suggest that you go ahead and prepare her bedroom. Don’t worry, you’ll only need to make some slight modifications: extra pillows, keeping everything within reach, things like that.”

Byleth looked over the list, nodding. “Thank you, Professor Manuela.”

“Also worth noting,“ Manuela continued,  
“is that all types of back injuries and surgeries tend to come with a significant amount of pain. It’s an area heavy with sensitive nerves, after all. I can give you some numbing agents and medicinal root to soothe the pain, but most of it will just have to be waited out.”

“Will it take long?” Hubert asked.

“With this specific surgery? It’s impossible to say,” she replied. “I’d estimate two weeks to regain full mobility, and around month or two for pain to fully subside.”

“Several months...” Edelgard said in a whisper, head falling against Byleth’s arm.

Byleth ran a hand through her hair, shushing as the other woman’s eyelids fell shut again. “It’ll be alright; you can take all the time you need.”

Hubert and Byleth shared a smile as Edelgard relaxed, drifting back into sleep.

“However,” Linhardt began, clearing his throat as he approached the bed. “There were a few anomalies that we noticed during the operation.” He turned the Manuela. “Professor Manuela, if I may?”

She nodded.

“Right, well,” he continued, “after our initial incision, we noticed that the muscle tissue in the surrounding area was black. It wasn’t dead, or in a state of necrosis; it was simply... dark. We’re hoping that it was only a sign of intense bruising, likely acquired from the wings’ rapid growth, but it’s difficult, if not outright impossible, to say for sure.” 

He earned a confused stare from both Byleth and Hubert. 

“Furthermore, the area where the wings pushed through the skin was covered in very thick scar tissue. If that’s any indication, then healing will be a long, messy process.”

Hubert thought for a moment. “Any feathers?”

“Feathers?” The other man paused. “Oh! No, we didn’t see any signs of feather growth on her back. Furthermore, we even took the liberty of trimming some of the existing feathers while she was asleep; although full removal of them will require a separate procedure.”

“I see,” Hubert replied. “Well, you’ve certainly done an excellent job.”

“And the same goes for Professor Manuela as well,” Byleth added. “We owe you two a heartfelt thanks.”

Manuela smiled. “Well, let’s save the thanks for when we actually see the results.”

Byleth nodded, and looked back down at the sleeping woman beside her. She squeezed Edelgard’s hand, prompting a week squeeze in response. “Right,” she reiterated. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

And so they did.


End file.
